Mending
by Muffled Chimes
Summary: When Alicia enters the shop, she finds George in a state that makes him nearly unrecognizable to her. G.W./A.S. Written for the "Random Competition" by Aiiimy. Prompts: George/Alicia, Candles, "You Found Me" by The Fray. HPFC


A/N: For the "Random Competition" by Aiiimy. The prompts were: 28) George/Alicia, 5) Candles, and 19) "You Found Me" by The Fray.

Thank you to the lovely people who beta'd for me, and made this piece a lot better than it was, initially: SoUsay234 and PrimroseAmelia

* * *

Broken.

That is the only word that Alicia can think of that can describe how he looks when she sees him. They haven't seen one another in nearly a year, but all the same, the change in him is startling – disturbing.

"George?"

The shock of his transformation seems to cause a change in her as well. Usually bold and confident, she hardly recognizes her own voice as it comes out soft and hesitant. It sounds alien.

George looks up, his blue eyes searching in the darkness for her. She frowns as, at first, his gaze passes over her entirely. When their eyes finally do meet, it takes George a moment to recognize her. And when he does, there's no smile. Nothing of the happy young man she used to know.

"Alicia," he says, but it's hollow. For a moment, the silence hangs between them, laden with hundreds of questions that Alicia can't bring herself to ask yet.

Her eyes travel over the room. George isn't the only one who's changed; so has the shop that he so proudly owned with his brother. it looks as though all of the life and excitement has been drained out of it; empty display stands litter the otherwise bare and dusty floor, several large boxes are stacked in the back corner, and the shelves on the walls are just as barren as the floor.

"What happened?" she questions, her eyes moving back to George, who is sitting with his back against one of the cardboard boxes.

He looks down at something tiny that's wrapped in his hands – a sweet of some kind – and stays quiet for a long moment. The ghost of a smile flickers across his face. "This was the last thing he worked on," he says quietly, and immediately Alicia understands.

She moves slowly into the room, twisting her hands together as she sinks onto her knees beside him. Her eyes are stinging, and her throat feels thick. She reaches for George's hand, and closes her fingers around it gently. "George," she starts, but he interrupts. The tone of his voice is nearly enough to shatter whatever modicum of self-control she has left.

"He wasn't supposed to leave. I should've been there. He was alone."

She swallows hard, her heart squeezing painfully. "It's been a year, George, you can't keep blaming yourself. There wasn't anything you could've done."

"How can I _not_?" he demands, his cracking voice raising an octave. "Every morning, I look into that mirror. I see _him_ looking back at me, reminding me! I can't – I just-" he stops there, bowing his head. Something wet splashes on her hand, and she realizes that George is crying.

"We were supposed to grow old together." His voice breaks, and before Alicia really knows what she's doing, she's pulling George into a tight hug.

There's a tense moment when she isn't sure whether he's going to pull away. Then he relaxes into her hold, and she feels his arms around her waist. All at once, she realizes how frail he really is. In the flickering candlelight, she had thought that the shadows must have been exaggerating his sunken cheeks. Now she can feel just how thin he is; as though, without Fred, he is quite literally wasting away.

"You're killing yourself," she murmurs into his hair, a few copper strands swaying as her breath passes over them.

He allows her to hold him, to comfort him, and Alicia soon loses track of the time. No light is streaming from the windows. The only light in the room is coming from a score of candles that are scattered around the room, casting long, flickering shadows over everything. She isn't sure how long they stay like that, but eventually his hold on her slackens, and she releases him.

"Where are you staying?" Alicia asks, and somehow, deep down, she knows that he isn't staying with his family. There would be too many memories there of him. Of Fred.

Her suspicions are confirmed a second later when George replies, "The Hog's Head – I've got a back room."

She stands, dusting off her trousers as she extends her hand down to him. "Not anymore," she says gently, offering him a friendly smile. "You're staying with me. If you're not going to take care of yourself, you have to at least let someone do it for you."

George looks at her hand, as if it were something completely new, and strange. Like he hadn't seen it a million times when they were on the team together. His expression slowly softens, though, and his own hand reaches out, trembling, to take it. She grasps firmly, and pulls, tugging him gently to his feet.

And when she looks him in the eye, she can see a tiny glimmer of hope shining back at her. This time, her smile doesn't seem quite as forced, and she holds tightly to his hand. "It's going to be alright, you know." She believes it, with all of her being. The tough part, she knows, will be getting him to see it too, and believe it. But Alicia Spinnet has always been a girl who loves challenges, and this is one that she's glad to take on.

Together, they blow out the candles in the empty shop, and as the keys jingle in the lock, Alicia can't chase away the feeling that this is the start of something. She doesn't know what brought her to the shop that day, but there's a sensation that _this_ was why. This is what she's meant to be doing. And as they walk away, she doesn't even realize that their hands are still clasped firmly together - a bridge, a link, a lifeline: a candle of hope burning in a dark window.


End file.
